The Wizard of Fairy Tale World

Chapter 146: The Fearful Oz

Huh? Oz, seriously?

So, the moment you left your homeland, you just started making things up?

Rhine was speechless. Keeping a straight face, he said, "Yes. The Oz you speak of—that’s me."

The soldiers were stunned.

Rhine smiled, looking forward to the moment his true identity was revealed.

"Your King Oz must have described what the magician from the Rose Kingdom looked like, right?"

The soldiers exchanged glances.

"Yes, the great Oz did mention his teacher’s appearance," one of them admitted.

Then, one of the soldiers spoke up. "Just like the great Oz takes on different forms before different people, his teacher, the legendary magician Rhine, has multiple appearances as well."

"Sometimes, Rhine is a towering flame giant, a hundred meters tall. Simply standing there, he brings a sweltering heat over an entire city," another soldier said.

"Other times, he’s a massive beast with three hundred eyes and sixty heads. One stomp of his foot makes the entire city tremble," a third soldier added.

"At times, he appears as a sweet little girl, no older than four or five, with gem-like eyes and a beautifully pleated dress. But her face is unnervingly doll-like, never blinking—just like a living puppet," a fourth soldier said.

"Or, he might be a colossal floating head with a dozen pairs of wings, flapping them lightly to summon powerful gales," the fifth soldier chimed in.

Finally, all of them turned to stare at the quiet, ordinary-looking boy in front of them.

"In any case, as the great Oz’s teacher, Rhine definitely wouldn’t look like you! You’re too… normal. Two eyes, one nose, one mouth, two ears—you look just like an ordinary boy. There’s nothing extraordinary about you at all!"

…What?

Rhine’s mouth twitched.

This over-the-top, shape-shifting mystique—yeah, that did sound exactly like something Oz would do.

But Oz, it’s one thing to lie about yourself—why drag me into your nonsense?!

Rhine had no way to argue his case.

"I think your king’s descriptions are… well, slightly exaggerated," he muttered.

No matter how much he tried to explain, the soldiers refused to believe that the boy standing before them was the magician from the Rose Kingdom.

They were convinced that this rule-breaking outsider was just stubbornly refusing to reveal his real identity.

"Forget it. Even if you don’t give us your name and background, it doesn’t really matter."

"Just stay put. We’re going to get you a pair of green glasses."

With that, the soldiers locked Rhine in the room, leaving two guards at the door while the rest left.

The small room was dark and cold, but Rhine wasn’t concerned—he already had a plan to escape.

Smiling, he walked to the window and tapped the windowsill twice with his fingertips.

Moments later, a small white pigeon flew over, singing a light, melodious tune.

Rhine stroked the bird’s feathers, tied a freshly written letter to its leg, and sent it off.

The bird flew straight toward the Emerald City palace—the residence of the great Oz.

Deep inside the palace, Oz lay trembling in his lavish bed.

It had been over ten years since he left his homeland, and though life had been good to him—he was mistaken for a powerful magician, crowned as a king, and given his own kingdom—he still found himself reminiscing about the past.

On countless nights, in the depths of his dreams, he recalled a scene from long ago.

It was the day he had performed in the royal palace’s garden—

That day, a bird had soared through the sky, gliding in a graceful arc before landing and transforming into a young man.

That figure, elegant and weightless, was none other than the Sage of the Rose Kingdom—the great magician Rhine.

Oz remembered it vividly. The nobles and royals had widened their eyes in awe before bursting into thunderous applause.

Even he had stood among them, clapping in astonishment.

His own magic tricks paled in comparison.

In the face of true magic, his illusions were nothing more than candlelight before the sun.

That moment had burned itself into his memory—

"So this is real magic…!"

"This is incredible—far beyond the natural world, beyond human comprehension!"

"Compared to this, my magic tricks are just parlor games, cheap tricks to entertain a crowd. Completely useless."

"If only I could become a real magician, wield true magic, and earn the respect of others…"

Oz had often fantasized about being the protagonist of a fairy tale—where, one day, he would suddenly gain real magic, punish those who had wronged him, and become the center of admiration.

But every time the dream reached this point, Oz would wake up in a cold sweat.

Only then would he remember—he had half achieved that childhood wish.

The people of this land did revere him as a great magician. He had become a respected king.

His name was praised by all.

The Four Witches—North, South, East, and West—all believed that his magic was unrivaled, that his power was absolute.

But the truth was, he still didn’t know a single spell.

He was nothing but a fraud.

And that was exactly what had been keeping him up at night.

"If only I could have stayed here forever, as the king, as the great magician the people worshipped…"

"But a few months ago, that magician, Magrito, seemed to have discovered my secret."

"If the people of Oz find out I can’t actually use magic, I’m done for. I’ve fooled them for so long… If they realize they’ve been deceived, they’ll tear me apart."

"And worst of all—what about the Wicked Witches of the East and West? They’ve feared my reputation for years. If they find out I’m just an ordinary man… I can’t even imagine how they’ll take revenge on me!"

The more Oz thought about it, the more terrified he became.

For the past few months, he had forbidden any magician from entering the city, desperate to keep his secret safe.

Only those who truly understood magic could see through his illusions.

Just then, a soft tapping sound echoed by the window.

Oz hesitated before cautiously approaching and drawing back the curtain.

A small white pigeon was pecking at the windowpane, its leg tied with a letter.